Torn

To my babies, I love you. And to Daniel Tosh, thanks for being the sick and twisted individual that makes me laugh until I almost puke.

Copyright © 2018 Candace Dowds

All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction that shall not be shared or sold without the authors permission.

I'm utterly disgusted with myself. What kind of sick person falls in love with their half-sister?

Sure, I had no idea she existed, but the moment I saw Abby, as she stood crying outside of my father’s office of the timber mill, my body was drawn to her. I wanted, nope, scratch that, I needed to know who she was. I needed to be close to her, but when I did speak to her, my entire world came crashing down around me. Immediately, I had to leave, but it wasn’t because my father had an affair when I was just a small boy, but for the reason that even when she told me who she was, my attraction for her didn’t lessen. Not at all.

I’m a simple guy with basic needs. Beer, cigarettes, sex, and fun. What more could a twenty-year-old want?

My decision to stay home and not head off to college like most of my peers, was a gutsy move, one that had my parents in a tailspin, but they seem to get why I wanted to stay back, living just outside of Lafayette, Tennessee.

Never had I wanted to move away to be with those I knew from high school. For as long as I can remember, I've never been one to play nice, so I knew just how much trouble I'd find myself in if I had moved away to college. The other reason was that my father saw how hard I was working down at the mill, how I was managing the men and the jobs they were supposed to be doing, so he cut me in. He handed over half of the business to me as a thank you for easing his responsibilities and telling our employees to shape up or fuck off.

Out here in Lafayette, not a lot happens, but my buddy Ricky and I, do our best to fill in time. I never want to leave my town or my job, at least not for the moment.

When we grow bored, we pack up my Dodge Ram truck and go on the hunt for fresh pussy to pound, especially since we’ve fucked almost all the girls in our town and there aren’t many tourists roaming around since the most exciting activities to do around here is the old cinemas. The old cinemas where they show movies that were shown to the rest of the country months prior and the only other places to go are the two taverns on the Main street The good old tavern where the old men hang out.

One day, I plan to travel, but for now, I'm happy where I am. Yes, I’m a trust fund baby, but I won’t receive a cent of that until my twenty-first birthday in four months. I don’t plan on quitting my job and leaving my father in the lurch; I won’t be one of those men that don’t work for a living. I’ve always despised those that live off of the work of others. I understand that some people have extenuating circumstances, but it’s the bums that piss me off.

As I sit at the kitchen Island in my parent’s large, single story, five-bedroom, six-bathroom home that rests on one hundred and ten acres, I watch as my mother; Mary opens the oven to baste the chicken she has roasting. So, how was work? she asks me. My mom is only forty and is in fantastic shape for her age, but I guess forty isn’t what it used to be.

She works out in the home gym every morning and watches what she eats. My father, Scott, also looks very young for forty-one. Neither of them wishes to grow old, so they do what they can to stay not only young on the inside, but also on the outside.

Work was the same as always. Moving wood and telling the slack assholes what to do. It’s getting ridiculous, mom, they do the bare minimum and expect to get paid fair wages. The only one that does any fucking work is Ricky, and that’s because he respects both you and dad. I swear if we didn’t live in the middle of no fucking where, I’d fire them all, but the town only has a small population, and none of the young ones want to lift a finger. What the hell is going on? I question as I take a sip from my icy cold bottle of beer.

Closing the oven, my mom turns around to face me, and she reaches up to tuck her straying, long brunette hair behind her ear. The internet and computers are what’s wrong with this world, son. Everyone wants everything for nothing. Youtube is rotting the new generations minds. They all want to be Jackasses. They want to swap injuries for cash. It’s fucking ridiculous, but it’s just how it is, she merely shrugs.

Bingo! she’s right. They’re all morons, now. But as I go to continue talking, the front doorbell rings.

I’ll go and get it, mom offers, leaving me to finish my beer. A beer I need to wash away the day.

Mom, why won’t you answer me? I’m nineteen, for god’s sake. I need to know who my father is. I swear, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to go and do the dirty work, myself. This has gone on for far too long. I’ve finished school now, so I have the time to go to the courts and get the information I need. This woman has dodged the question for years, but when I was enrolling in college, the fact that I couldn’t fill in my father’s information, pissed me off to no end.

Every child deserves to know the truth. Yes, my mother has done the best she can for me over the years, and she’s been able to provide the things most single mothers can’t, but I still deserve to know where I came from. I won’t do what I always do and give in. No, I will stand my ground until the very end.

As she places her phone down on the hall table, she looks up at me. I’ve always been fascinated by the fact that my mother and I look so much alike. We both have bright blue eyes, long blond hair and the same nose and perfect cheekbones, but right now, I’ve never seen her look so serious. Abby, it’s not that I want to keep you from your father, it’s the fact that I promised him I’d keep his identity a secret, she sighs.

My brows bunch, my anger boiling, Fuck that, mom. Who is he? I don’t care what he told you all of those years ago; I have a right to know who he is. And I do. Shit, for years my heart would break when my school would have father-daughter dances, or bring your dad to school days, it’s time. I don’t care if he shows me the door when I do finally find him, I just need to put a face and a name, when or if she gives me one. That’s it. I want to see if there could be a bond formed. Sure, if I find him and he turns me away, I’ll be heartbroken, but at least I’ll know I tried. I’ll know I put in the effort. It’s important to me.

My mother’s head drops back in exasperation, and it’s usually when I give up and let the subject lye, but not this time. Tell me who he is, mom? If you don’t, I will walk out to my car, head to the courthouse and get the information I want and need. Please, if I have to do it myself, my respect for you will reduce significantly. I don’t know why you’re protecting a man you slept with way back in the day. A man that told you to fuck off and never contact him again. Why? Why do you continue to protect him? It’s something I’ve never understood. Here I am, her daughter, someone she loves wholeheartedly, yet she continues to protect this stranger.

She lets go of a breath she’d been holding, and motions for us to take a seat on the white leather sofa in the modestly sized living room.

Needing to stay calm, I do as she asks, and I take a seat on the sofa, crossing my legs, while she lowers herself down beside me, and she then turns to face me. You’re right, Abby. You do deserve to know, and I should be the one to tell you, everything, but only if you’re sure you’re ready to hear it all, right down to the sordid details? she asks as she reaches over, taking my hand in hers.

Shit, what the hell did they do? Nope, it doesn’t matter, I can’t back down now, not when she’s ready to spill her guts after all these years. Raising my head, I meet her gaze and give her a tight nod. Yes, tell me everything, mom.

Her chest rises and falls as she tries to gain her composure. Okay, first off, I need to tell you that at the time, I never knew your biological father was married. Never would I have ever gone near him if I knew he was married beforehand, Abby. Shit, she looks like she’s about to cry.

I know that, mom. I’m not here to judge you; I just want to know the truth. That’s it, so please continue, I clarify. The only detail she’s ever given me is that he was married and nothing more.

Giving a warm smile, she begins, Okay, I met your father here in Santa Cruze. At the time, I was waitressing at a bar in town that’s now closed down. From the minute he walked in with his dark eyes, tanned skin and muscular chest, I was instantly attracted to him, and the feeling was mutual. Throughout the night, he kept coming up to the bar engaging in small talk, and when the bar closed for the night, he was the only patron remaining. Scott, your father, but she pauses when she sees my eyes widen. Scott. Scott, my father’s name is Scott. Wow, I have no fucking idea how to feel or how to react. Yes, sweetheart, your father’s name is Scott. Scott Scarsdale, she says, and as she does, I can see her body physically relax. As if a ton of weight was just lifted from her small shoulders. I haven’t said his name aloud, in eighteen years, she admits.

Tell me more about your relationship, mom. I want to know everything, I plead. I will not let her move a muscle until I have all of the facts.

Well, once I’d finished cleaning down the bar, I joined him at a table where we drank and went on to talk for hours. Scott was such a warm, funny and kind man, or so I thought at the time, and then one thing leads to another, and we ended up back at my apartment. Raising her hand, she continues, I’ll spare you the graphic content, but he did spend the night. Now her hand drops. The next morning, he confessed that he was only in town for a week on business and that he couldn’t become involved with anyone because of his work schedule. I wasn’t bothered because I was still young myself, but regardless, Scott opted to stay with me rather than at the hotel his work had paid for that was located within a few miles from my apartment. The time we spent together was filled with laughter, but when the week was over, he didn’t even give me his address so we could catch up, but he did give me his work number, so I could call him just to say hi. She tells me as she rolls her eyes. He was still adamant that there was to be no relationship between us and when I questioned why, he kept repeating that statement, but eventually, he broke and told me that the real reason he couldn’t see me was that he was already married, but that the marriage was in trouble. I’d never before felt so used and filled with rage. I threw him out the door and told him I never wanted to see him again. I felt horrible like I’d just been the cause of a marriage breakdown. I can see that it still hurts her to think about. Maybe she hadn’t spent all of these years denying me the truth and not because Scott asked her to stay away, but because she felt ashamed of her actions.

Leaning in, I kiss her cheek. Mom, you had nothing to feel embarrassed or ashamed of. You didn’t know what a bastard he was, you are the innocent party in this. You would never have touched him if you knew he was married, it’s not your fault, I repeat, hoping it sinks in.

I know, sweetheart, but it’s always played on my mind.

I get that, but I need to hear the rest.

She takes a deep breath and then lets git go before continuing, I put it out of my mind for the next three weeks, but when I realised my period was late, I had no idea what I was going to do if it turned out I was pregnant. And since you’re sitting here, you know how that ended, she chuckles and so do I. Anyway, I decided I should do the right thing and call Scott to tell him the news, but immediately after, I wished I hadn’t.

I’m beginning to hate this asshole, I confess. How much of a lowlife can one man be?

Shaking her head, she says, He could have changed over time, my sweet girl.

I hope you’re right. Now, don’t let my current feelings get in the way of you finishing the story, I press. I’m so close, I can’t let her shut down while giving me the rest of the details.

"Okay. When I called him and told him I was pregnant and that the baby